


I Love You And The Plague You’re Spreading

by Flufflybunnypants



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Normal Life, Destiel - Freeform, Gen, Human Castiel, Hurt/Comfort, John Winchester's not a villain, Mysophobia, Sick Castiel, but he ain't winning father of the year either..., germaphobia, sick!fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-22
Updated: 2015-04-22
Packaged: 2018-03-25 04:42:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3797101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flufflybunnypants/pseuds/Flufflybunnypants
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean's mildly germaphobic, but has things mostly under control. What's he gonna do when Cas turns into a cough-ridden, sneezing mess?</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Love You And The Plague You’re Spreading

**Author's Note:**

> This is dedicated to the miserable cold giving me a sinus headache, the fuckwit who coughed wetly on my neck for an hour of class(Thanks, asshole), and my roommate's viral tonsilitis(Oh god, please don't let me catch that too). My thanks goes out to everyone who has dealt with me whining incessantly about having to be a self sufficient adult and take care of my own illness.

Cas notices it first on the bus. The Impala’s in the shop for today, so he and Dean are taking the bus to go get groceries. Dean’s pouting a bit, but Cas finds it rather endearing, so that’s okay.

A man sneezes behind them and  Dean flinches. It’s not really a flinch of surprise. It’s a more visceral reaction. Cas rests his hand on Dean’s hand, but Dean pulls away to dig a small bottle of hand sanitizer out of his jacket pocket. He prods at Cas until Cas obliges and sanitizes himself too. Then Dean takes his hand again.

They’re in a movie theater a week later and someone near them keeps coughing wetly. It’s flu season, so while it’s irritating, it’s not unexpected. After one loud cough, Dean shudders, gags, and walks out. Cas follows him without a thought, abandoning their popcorn. He wanders in the lobby for a bit, trying to find Dean. Eventually, he thinks to check the bathroom.

Dean’s washing his hands, suds up to his wrists. Cas waits for him to dry his faintly red hands with a handful of paper towels. Dean lets out a long sigh as he tosses the wadded paper towel in the bin. He looks mildly confused to see Cas, but ushers him out, saying, “You didn’t have to come looking for me; I can use the bathroom all by myself.”

“Is there,” Cas approaches his question delicately, “do you want to go get something to eat instead?”

Dean shrugs, apparently ambivalent, and leads Cas outside. They walk in peaceful quiet to the near coffee shop. It’s their favorite, and Elizabeth greets them when they walk in.

Cas gets the “Angel”, 16 ounces of pure rainbow-y sugar. Dean just snorts at him and gets the “Demon”, tar-black coffee, and a slice of pecan pie.

They sit at their favorite corner table. Cas doesn’t give Dean a chance to redirect, asking, “Are you okay?”

“What? I’m fine.”

For once, Cas believes him. That doesn’t negate the fact that he wasn’t, and Cas says so.

Dean does that stupid little “why does it matter” shrug.

“Dean,” Cas says patiently, “what bothered you?”

Dean ducks his head and rubbed the back of his neck. He mutters, “I don’t like sick people. I got – I was sick a lot as a kid and if I was sick, no one was taking care of Sammy and no one was gonna take care of me so it was all bad. Dad hated the fact that I got sick if anyone so much as sniffled near me.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Is there anything I do that bothers you?”

“No,” Dean blushes a little, “you are very – clean? Dammit, Cas, don’t laugh,” Dean groans.

“So you’re dating me just for my handwashing abilities?”

Dean can hear Cas’ gentle teasing tone and knows it’s okay. Cas isn’t going to call him a “neat freak” or accuse him of having OCD.

“Well it’s not for your handwriting,” Dean snarks, leaning over to kiss Cas across the table. “Geez, Cas, how much sugar is in that drink? It’s going to melt your damn mouth.”

Cas sticks his disturbingly rainbow colored tongue out and slurps loudly just spite Dean.

 

Months later, Cas gets miserably ill. He’s nearly lost his voice and he’s absolutely forbidden to go to his job in the neonatal unit. He’s justifiably surprised when he hears the front door open. He texted Dean to cancel their date tonight. Well, it’s either Dean or an intruder, and Cas is too incapacitated to fight anyone anyway. Cas waits, fuzzy vision no help at all.

Fortunately it’s Dean who shows up in his doorway, recognizable even when blurred.

“Dean,” Cas wheezes, “why’re you here?”

“Jesus, Cas.” Dean glances around the unusually messy room.

Cas coughs and clutches his chest.

“Okay, first things first, have you taken any meds?”

Cas gestures generally at the nightstand, where the pill bottles sit. There’s a carefully written record of what medicine Cas has taken and when he took it. Dean checks his temperature like a mother, back of his hand to Cas’ forehead.

“All right, I’m gonna run you a bath.”

Cas can’t even argue. He lies back and coughs, shivering slightly.

When Dean comes back from the bathroom, Cas furrows his brow and asks, “Why?”

Dean looks up from where he’s shoving clothes into Cas’ hamper. “Why what?”

“Why’re you here? Doesn’ it bother you?”

“Not gonna lie,” Dean admits, “my skin is doing its damnedest to crawl right off.” He pauses, looking thoughtfully at Cas. “But, I mean, I’m not to let you suffer this alone.”

Cas hears the underlying “because I care,” and fondly croaks “Dean.”

Dean waved him off. “Just remember if I get sick, I know where you live.”

Cas is pretty sure he’s mostly joking.

Dean shoos Cas into the warm bath and makes him keep the bathroom door cracked just in case.

When Cas gets out of the bath, breathing easier with the steam, Dean has dryer-warmed PJs ready for him. Dean tells Cas to sit on the couch and brings him a bowl of soup

“When did you make this?” Cas is bemused; he knows all he has here is frozen taquitos.

“This morning, when you texted me about how sick you were.”

Cas eats greedily, the chicken-rice soup a wonderful soft meal. Dean drapes the giant knitted couch throw over Cas’ shoulders. Wedged into the corner of the couch, soup bowl placed on the coffee table, Cas feels drowsy.

Dean takes the bowl and leaves him there. Cas naps to the sound of Dean washing up. Vaguely, briefly, he ponders the thought that the scrubbing sounds far too prolonged to just be one bowl.

When Cas wakes, there’s the muffled sound of the vacuum. Draped his blanket, he shuffles down the hall to his room. Dean flicks the vacuum off when Cas walks in. The windows are open and the room looks nicer than it has in days. That has been remade with new sheets, the floor has been cleared of all tissues, and the hamper of dirty clothes appears to have been removed. Dean looks a little sheepish, but gestures to the room with a “what do you think” look.

Cas smiles gratefully, and then goes and faceplants onto the newly made bed. Dean chuckles, and goes to shut the windows.

Dean leaves with the vacuum, and comes back into the room with piles of clean clothes. He leaves them folded on Cas’ desk chair. “I’m gonna, uh, head home. There’s soup in the fridge if you want some later.”

Cas recognizes it for the retreat that it is, and lets Dean gracefully exit, saying hoarsely, “Thank you, Dean.”

Dean gives him a small smile and mutters, “Love you, Cas,” before he darts out. Cas settles against his mountain of pillows, warmed to his core by Dean’s affection. He knows it’s still hard sometimes for Dean to say the words and while Cas doesn’t think Dean would appreciate kisses as a reward right now, Cas is pretty sure Dean won’t mind Cas texting him until he eventually passes out in a NyQuil-induced coma.

**Author's Note:**

> I've been playing with voice recognition software, and I'm exhausted so if there are spelling errors, please tell me!! My brain is too melty to notice.


End file.
